


Ten Years Long

by allmystars



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Castiel Glows Up, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Charlie Bradbury & Dean Winchester Friendship, Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Drunken Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Guilty Dean Winchester, Happy Ending, Hot Guy Looking Hot, M/M, School Reunion, two-person love triangle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29388198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmystars/pseuds/allmystars
Summary: It's been ten years since Dean's seen many of his classmates and he doesn't have much interest in catching up, but Charlie has other plans.One 'get to know you' survey and a little hacking later, and maybe the reunion won't be so bad?Maybe, just maybe, there's someone Dean wouldn't mind reconnecting with.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dorothy Baum/Charlie Bradbury
Comments: 14
Kudos: 97
Collections: Profound Bond Gift Exchange: Reunion





	Ten Years Long

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oriana1990](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oriana1990/gifts).



> Hello lovelies,
> 
> Happy Love Day! I hope you're all spending it with someone you love. (Friend, Family, etc.)
> 
> Here's my PB Gift Exchange fic for Oriana1990! I hope you like it! 
> 
> Thanks to the three lovely people who beta-read this (I only know your discord names) MPJL, evolving.diamond, and RashaPierce! You’re all awesome!
> 
> I've been doing so much writing in the last month or so, and not nearly enough posting lol. POMH is currently on hiatus because... Challenge fics, but we'll see what happens in a few more weeks.
> 
> Look out for my DCRB fic, Pinefest fic, and SPN Media Big Bang fic over the next few months. After that, who know!
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think!
> 
> \- allmystars

“This is stupid,” Dean says, filling out the sixth-grader survey like he’s not a twenty-eight-year-old man with an apartment and a career. “We knew these people a decade ago—what’s the point of getting to know them again?”

He’s not even sure how the damn thing popped up in his email anyway, considering it’s his company email and not the school allocated one he forgot the password to exactly twelve hours after graduation, but somehow he knows it’s Charlie’s fault. Everything is Charlie’s fault.

How the hell is he supposed to tell a near-stranger about all his likes and dislikes and expect them to like him any more than they did in high school? High school reunions are overrated anyway. He’s told Charlie that more times than he can count, and yet here he sits, filling out the ‘ _get to know you’_ portion of the survey while Charlie sits beside him, doing the same.

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” Charlie bumps his shoulder with her own, swinging her bare feet and dragging her toes in the sand. “Don’t you want to know what happened to some of them? Lisa, maybe?” She gives him a look from the corner of her eye, her fiery hair blowing in the sea breeze. 

“Lisa’s divorced with a twelve-year-old; we talk every once in a while.”

“Okay,” Charlie says, tapping in a few more answers on her brand new iPhone. “What about Cassie? She was hot.”

“She was,” Dean sighs, thinking of his first love. He remembers it like it was yesterday when she rode off into the sunset with a guy who treated her right. She’s been happily married for seven of the last ten years, and all Dean’s feelings are nothing more than fond pride nowadays. “But that ship sailed years ago.”

Charlie huffs, typing in ‘LotR’ with a murmured, “My person better know what ‘LotR’ is, for fuck’s sake.” She digs both feet into the sand, leaning over the railing with a world-weary sigh. 

The boardwalk isn’t nearly as busy as it is in the summer, what with all the tourists still at their winter homes this early in the spring, but SoCal is where Dean and Charlie grew up—it’s their home and he doesn’t think he’ll ever leave.

“What if we get each other?” Dean asks, typing in ‘LotR’ himself—no long-form here; if you know, you know.

“We won’t,” Charlie assures him, but he’s not convinced. 

“How do you know?” Dean asks. 

What would be so wrong with that? They wouldn’t even have to use the forum. They could just text back and forth like they do every day.

“I hacked the system,” she says, as plain as that, and Dean rolls his eyes. “No offense, pretty boy, but I don’t want to know you anymore than I already do, thanks.”

“Rude,” Dean huffs, reading over his answers one more time. “Nothing wrong with talkin’ to me.”

“‘Course not, sweetheart.” Charlie smooshes his face, cupping his chin in the palm of her hand and squeezing his lips into a pucker.

“Stawp it, Chawie,” he swats her hand away as she laughs.

“We gonna do this, or what?” She holds up her phone, tapping the screen before it can go dark.

Dean looks down at the _Submit_ button, bright blue and taunting. “Fine,” he says, and with a heavy sigh, he taps the screen.

“For fuck’s sake, what _now_?” Dean groans as he rolls over, legs tangling in the sheets. He reaches for his cellphone from where it buzzes on his bedside table. The early morning California sun shines through his open blinds. He needs to leave himself a note or something to remember to close them. And maybe a note to remember the note. 

Through bleary eyes, Dean squints at the too-bright screen, his scowl deepening when an unfamiliar number pops up on his screen with another message, his iPhone automatically suggesting a name that has his heart skipping a few beats.

_Maybe Castiel: Hello, Dean. I thought I would text you first. We have been matched up through the survey for the SoCal High reunion._

_Maybe Castiel: It’s Castiel, by the way. Castiel Novak._

Dean just about swallows his tongue. _Castiel?_ Castiel Novak, the dorky little guy he had the biggest crush on all through middle school and into senior year. That Castiel?

_Dean: Hey, Cas! Long time, no see! What are you up to lately?_

He hesitates for a moment before hitting send, then instantly regrets it when he counts the two whole exclamation marks. What is _wrong_ with him?

With his heart in his throat, pulse thundering in his ears, Dean waits with bated breath, sitting up in bed with his phone propped on his knees. He takes a second to add Castiel to his contacts but resists the urge to add a heart beside his name, opting for a bumblebee instead.

_Castiel: Dreading the reunion, mostly. Whose idea was it to get together with people we hated ten years ago, anyway?_

Dean laughs out loud, the sound echoing in his empty bedroom.

_Dean: And yet, here we are, a couple of idiots attending anyway._

Giddy excitement mingles with his nerves in a way he hasn’t felt since… well, _high school_ , and he shivers as butterflies flutter in his stomach.

 _Castiel_ : _Oh, the irony…_

Dean grins, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as he slides out of bed, ready to face the day. Maybe this reunion won’t be so bad after all.

“Who are you talking to?”

“What?” Dean glances up from his phone, the most recent text from Cas open in his messages. It’s been two and a half weeks since their match up, and he can’t get the guy out of his head. Even now, at the streetside café he and Charlie frequent so often the staff know them by name, he can’t stop glancing at his phone. “Oh, uh, Castiel. My reunion matchup.” That was fine. All cool—all good. Nothing to see here.

“Castiel, huh?” The suggestion in her voice is reflected in her raised eyebrow and coy smile. “Novak? Chess club, book club, bee enthusiast Castiel Novak?”

“Uh… yes?” He’s only half-listening, trying to think up a clever reply to Castiel’s latest text. Dean’s never been overly witty—a little awkward, sure, and a lot sarcastic, yeah, but never good at comebacks.

“ _That’s_ who you’ve been texting for the last two weeks? Now that I think about it, you’ve had that pleased little smile too.” She waggles a finger at him—she knows him too well, dammit. 

“It’s nothing,” he tells her, refusing to meet her eyes. His phone buzzes on the table between them, face up for Charlie to see, but he snatches it away before her sneaky little eyes can read anything significant.

The waitress walks by—a cute little brunette with a wide smile and bouncy black hair that brushes her shoulders—and Charlie’s eyes follow her instead.

They’ve been hitting it off—him and Castiel—and he’s actually excited to go to this thing now, even after ten years. Dean’s got his phone practically glued to his hand for the last couple of weeks leading up to the reunion, keeping a conversation going twenty-four-seven. Which is surprising since casual conversation has never been a strength of his, but one late-night musing roll into the next morning's early riser greetings. 

“I don’t know, babe,” Charlie says, nudging his foot under the table with her own as she stuffs the last of her pastrami on rye into her chipmunk cheeks. “You seem pretty smitten to me.”

“Piss off,” Dean mutters, tossing a soggy fry at her stupid face. When is an acceptable time to ditch a friend on a lunch date, you ask? Fuck, he doesn’t know, but they’re just about done anyway, and when Charlie calls the waitress over to pay, Dean lets out a relieved sigh. 

Sure, he loves talking to Castiel, but talking about talking to Castiel? Nah, he can do without that, especially with Charlie, who has no qualms about teasing his socks off, so yeah, the reunion can’t come fast enough. 

He’s practically counting down the days until he and Castiel meet again.

“Oh, God. Okay, what to do, what to do?” Dean stops and starts, turning from one side of his room to the next. How could he lose it? Shit, it was the one thing he needed to keep on him, and he _lost_ it. “Shit, Charlie’s going to _kill_ me.”

Dean pushes both hands through his hair, messing up the carefully smoothed locks. Not that it matters if he can’t find it—none of this will because he’ll be dead. 

“Knock knock!”

“Fuck,” Dean whispers, ice trickling down his spine. She’s here. She’s here and he lost it and he’s out of _time_. “Just—just a minute!” he calls, scrambling with frantic, shaking hands. Under his bed, the bottom of his closet—even in his fucking _shoes_ —but it’s not _here_.

“You dressed? As pretty as you are, I’d rather not get an eyeful of your dangler,” Charlie calls, halfway down the hall by now, and if he wasn’t so panicked, he’d be rolling his eyes right about now. “Might kill the mood for later, you know?”

“Wait in the car!” Dean calls, too shrill to be anything but suspicious, but he’s got exactly no time to find the fucking thing. Why he borrowed it in the first place, he’s got no idea, but he did, and now he’s kicking himself for it.

“Oh, _fine_ , don’t show me what you’re wearing!” But her voice fades back down the hall. “You know I’ll just send you back if I don’t approve!” Yeah, yeah, it wouldn’t be the first time, but what’s wrong with a decent flannel and good pair of jeans?

Dean dumps his underwear drawer, but nothing of the lucky-sex-charm sort tumbles out. Yeah, he knows it’s dumb, but Charlie swears by it, and it had been _months_ back when she offered it, and he was just desperate enough to try.

But as the clock ticks closer to seven o’clock, he starts to lose hope, resigning himself to the fact that he’ll have to tell her. 

With a deep, weighted sigh, Dean looks around the wreck of his room. Clothes on the floor and underwear hanging from his reading lamp—it’s the least of his worries; he’ll deal with it later.

Dean drags himself down the hall, head spinning with excuses he knows won’t work, and as he slips on his jacket, stuffs his feet in his boots, and locks the door behind him, he knows there’s only one thing to do.

Steer clear of the topic at all costs.

Walking the thirty or so paces from the front step to Charlie’s car feels like walking the plank. Like his arms and legs should be shackled—the waters below, shark-infested, though the only shark in sight is the snappy redhead behind the wheel.

Dean takes a deep, calming breath before opening the door and sticking his head in with a faker-than-fuck beaming smile. “Heya, Red—” Dean stops, annoyance spiking inside him when he finds the fucking good-luck-fuck charm hanging from the rearview mirror. “What the fuck, Char?”

“What the fuck is right! Inside—now!”

Dean rolls his eyes on a groan but slams the door shut before stomping back to the door, already peeling off his flannel with Charlie following close behind.

“Do you think he’ll recognize me?” Dean says, flattening the _Hi, I’m Dean_ name tag Charlie slaps on his chest.

“Probably not,” she says, flipping through her text messages. 

Dean smirks—what a softy. She’s been teasing him for the last three weeks about his obsession with his reunion partner, and look at her now. 

“You don’t have the same pretty-boy swagger you did back then. Same bow legs, though,” Charlie says, and ducks to the side to check him out in his thigh-hugging jeans. “And same great ass.”

“Great, I’ll just watch for the guy checking out everyone's ass.” Dean rolls his eyes, straightening his deep green button-down and making sure it’s tucked in properly. 

Why couldn’t he just wear a t-shirt and his favourite flannel, you ask? Charlie. Charlie is the reason.

“You do that.” She slaps his ass, pushing him through the gymnasium doors into the low-lit room. His old classmates fill the space, chattering in corners and laughing a little too loosely, overpowered by the music thumping through the decades-old speakers.

Okay… Castiel. Where’s Castiel? 

In an instant, Dean finds Lisa standing by the photo booth with her new boyfriend, Matt, laughing aloud for all to hear. Cassie is sitting with her husband at one of the round tables set off to the side, and Benny has his arm slung around his fiancée, Andrea, on the edge of the dance floor, but he doesn’t see—

“Holy fucking fuck, Charlie, who’s that?” 

At the back of the crowd, deep in the corners with a plate in his hands, a tall, dark-haired man stands in a tailored suit and expensive leather shoes. He’s not anyone Dean remembers, but damn if he’d love to get to know him. 

“Uh, don’t know,” Charlie murmurs, squinting at the man, whose name tag is too shaded to read, even if he wasn’t a gymnasium away.

He wants to talk to him—God, he wants to go over there _so bad_ —but Castiel. He’s here for Castiel, and for Charlie, and to say he did it, not to hit on some guy he doesn’t even remember from over a decade ago. 

Dean panics, dragging Charlie along with him to the bar despite her squawking protests. 

“Dean! Dorothy’s waiting for me,” she whines, tugging on her arm without much real effort. “Come on, just ‘cause you can’t get any doesn’t mean I shouldn’t.”

“Don’t pout; it’s not cute,” Dean says, tugging on a strand of her meticulously curled hair.

Who _is_ that guy? And why does he care? He’s still got this thing with Cas, and does it make him a shitty person to forget him for a moment? To want to talk to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome instead? God, it does, doesn’t it? Shit. 

“Can I get a whiskey, neat? Thanks.”

“We’ve got punch,” the man behind the table says, a bland look in his eyes and a scowl that defies his cheery red blazer.

“Got spiked punch?”

“No, sir,” the man says, but he’s nodding, slow and deliberate, and Dean smirks. 

“Thanks, man.” He takes the cup with a wink and backs away as the bartender smiles. Alright… time to find Cas.

Dean pulls out his phone, shooting off a text as he takes a sip of his punch. Whiskey burns down his throat, pooling in his stomach, filling him with the fiery courage he needs to send Castiel a text.

 _Dean_ : _Just got here. Where are you??_

 _Castiel_ : _I’m here. Standing behind the table by the photo booth. You?_

_Dean: Making my way there ;)_

Dean’s stomach flutters and a smile turns up the corners of his lips as he watches the three little dots jump on his screen. He stashes his phone before anything comes through, too impatient to wait. 

But, after two rounds of the gym and no sign of Cas, he’s thinking maybe he should go find the hot guy from earlier. It doesn’t look like Castiel is here at all—not that Dean can see, at least—so what’s the harm in finding company elsewhere?

Dean heaves a sigh. 

The harm is in throwing away a sweet, kind, dorky little guy for one night of fun. What is he doing? Castiel might not have been popular, but he was smart as hell, with his dorky glasses, his love for bumblebees, and his guinea pig, Pebbles. 

Dean: _I don’t see you :(_

He waits a moment, but there’s no answer. Damn it, why does he feel like he’s being stood up on a date? And where the hell is Charlie? It’s about time they get the hell out of here and find a burger joint with some damn good pie.

Instead, he finds himself searching for the hot guy from earlier. He’s not hard to find, standing alone, a few feet from a group huddled together looking down at a strip of photos from the booth. He’s staring down, tapping away at his phone with one hand in his pocket, feet crossed at the ankles, and his dark hair falling over his forehead.

What’s the worst that can happen? He’ll get shot down? Ignored or laughed at? He doesn’t even know the guy, so what’s he got to lose?

Dean takes one last steadying breath, and before he can talk himself out of it, he forces himself to move, his heart in his throat and his pulse thundering in his ears. 

Then, he’s standing in front of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome, wondering what the hell he’s thinking and too late to figure it out. 

“Hi,” he says, the word tumbling out before he can stop himself. “Sorry to bother you, but you don’t happen to know where—” 

The man looks up, and Dean’s breath catches in his throat.

“Dean.” 

Dean blinks, caught by those pretty blue eyes that have haunted him for over a decade. Here he is—Castiel Novak, the dorky, nerdy, adorably awkward guy, not so much of any of those anymore.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean breathes, a smile lighting up his face as butterflies swarm in his stomach. “Long time, no see, pal.”

Castiel jerks his head back, scowling. “Pal?”

Okay, fine. Not _pal_. But he’s strung up by the balls here, so wired with excitement and nerves, what else can he say? 

“Sorry, I just…” Dean shakes his head. “You look good— _really_ good. You did well for yourself.”

Castiel huffs out a laugh. 

Dean leans against the cool cement block wall beside him, trying for nonchalance and failing miserably when he trips over his own feet and stumbles into Castiel.

“Woah, there,” Castiel says, catching Dean around the waist with a strong arm. Dean blushes from head to toe, both hands resting on Castiel’s chest as his head starts to swim. Damn, that’s some strong punch. “Alright?”

“Fine,” Dean breathes, looking straight into Castiel’s eyes from only inches away, and Castiel doesn’t let go, keeping his arm locked and fingers twined in Dean’s shirt.

“Good.” A pause, his lips try to decide if they’re going to smile or not. “How about that punch?” He arches an eyebrow, and yes, a smile. 

Their third glass of punch goes down even easier than the first two, and Dean loses his jittery nerves by the first half of the fourth, replaced by a warm flush and a burning in his chest as he leans in closer, inches from Castiel as they catch up properly.

“Bees, huh?” he murmurs, fascinated by the thought of Castiel doing exactly what he’d planned—a big-time environmental lawyer, saving the rainforest and protecting the bees. “You were always the smart guy, you know? The genius.”

“I was the nerd, Dean.” Castiel rolls his eyes, fiddling with the rim of his cup and looking into the melting ice. 

“Yeah,” Dean says, bringing Castiel’s eyes back to his. “You were, and you were a genius.” 

Castiel gives him a look. 

“What? You can’t be both?” 

“I suppose, but now I’m a _rich_ genius.”

Dean snorts. “Hate to break it to you, Cas, but you’re also still a nerd.”

“And you’re still a pretty-boy flirt.”

“Yeah, but I have a damn good car.” Dean tips his drink, ignoring the shouts and squeals coming from just outside the photo booth—sounds like moans coming from inside.

“Same car from a decade ago.”

Dean’s not sure whether he should be offended by the slight or flattered that Castiel noticed at all. “Touché.”

Dean ghosts a hand over Castiel’s hip, his eyes going heavy-lidded as he leans in. “Do you want to—”

“Dean!”

Dean jumps, pulling away to glare at Charlie, who has her arm slung around a pretty brunette. “Charlie,” he grunts, clearing his throat as she looks between the two of them.

“Who’s this?” She cocks her head to the side, smiling at Castiel as she extends her hand. 

“Charlie, Castiel. Castiel, Charlie,” he says, waving between them like they don’t already know each other.

“Oh!” She shakes his hand. “Sorry, Cas—you grew up.” Dean groans when she drags her gaze over Castiel from head to toe—so obvious in what she’s doing that Dean wants nothing more than to hide under that table over there. “So, you two want to get out of here?”

Dean’s eyes narrow further. “No,” he snaps. Castiel’s head snaps toward him, but Charlie just smirks, her eyes flicking to Castiel before she holds both hands up in surrender and backs away. 

“Alright, darling. Let me know if you need…” another look at Castiel as she fingers her good-luck-fuck charm. “Anything.” 

Then she leaves with her girl on her arm and with nothing but a backward glance and a wink.

Fucking Charlie.

Dean rolls his eyes and turns back to Castiel, finding a smile on his lips and something hot and dark in his eyes. 

“You were saying?”

“Let’s get out of here.” The words are out of his mouth before he has a chance to second guess himself. 

Castiel arches an eyebrow but leans closer, his fingers finding their way to Dean’s belt buckle. 

“Tell me one thing first,” he murmurs, lips brushing stubbled cheeks. Dean’s breath catches in his throat. “You didn’t have a clue who I was, did you?”

Dean huffs a tiny laugh. “Not a fucking clue,” he says, lifting his hands to Castiel’s face. “Noticed you the moment I walked in, though.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, pulling Castiel into a searing, heartrending kiss, their tongues tangling in the dark as everything inside Dean lights up like the fourth of July. 

“So?” Castiel says against his lips. “Are we getting out of here, or what?”

Heat burns deep in his stomach, and he can’t stop himself from biting Castiel’s lower lip with a growl. “Fuck yes.”

It’s a damn good night for a reunion, or maybe something new altogether. Either way, Dean’s going to make sure this thing lasts.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter at [allmystars_AO3](https://twitter.com/allmystars_AO3)  
> ~  
> Follow me on Tumblr at [allmystars-i](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/allmystars-i)  
> ~  
> Follow me on Instagram @allmystars_i


End file.
